


🦇 CabinFeverHaver’s Inktober 2019 🦇

by CabinFeverHaver



Category: Monster Lover - Fandom
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Inktober, Inktober 2019, Lesbian, MONSTER FUCKER, Monster Lover, New Relationship, Smut, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 17:43:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20855729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CabinFeverHaver/pseuds/CabinFeverHaver
Summary: Hey! Here’s a giant ol’ fic for my Inktober 2019 works. (tried to make a collection, failed). Every chapter should be a single prompt, I plan to try and write every day but I may fall back a little bit or post multiple on one day. Hope you enjoy your October and bag a wonderful monster girlfriend along the way! 🦇🦇🦇





	1. the prompt list!

So this year I’m gonna be using a mix of a prompt list from tumblr user russelnortonsgirl (theme is: HORROR) and the official Inktober 2019 list. 

1) Axe Wielding Murderer

9) Cemetery 

13) Creature (!!!!)

15) There’s Something in the Woods

31) Halloween 

edit: alright, so i’m going to be changing how i do this. I’ve realized doing all 31 is near impossible for me and I’d really hate to have an empty fic on here! So i’m doing what’s called a 5k with four (plus one) of my favorite prompts. That means one fic per week of October! 


	2. Axe Wielding Murderer

Here, in the middle of forest surrounding Dorport, late at night and accompanied by four other equally irresponsible teenagers, the sound of damp leaves and snapping twigs under your feet reminded you constantly how desperately lost you were. It was too dark, too cold, and far too hopeless for your liking. The only reason you even agreed to go out into the woods was to have a chance of playing spin the bottle or some other stupid game and maybe (just  _ maybe _ ) find some fun on this dreary night in this dreary town. But now, the only thing you can seem to find is more leaves and trees. Leaves and trees, leaves and trees. The other kids in your little excavation group are lagging behind you quite a bit, sharing a disgustingly slobbered on bottle of Jack Daniels. You scoff at them.  _ They may be your friends,  _ you think as you sweep your flashlight over the dark landscape before you,  _ but it doesn’t mean you have to make nice when  _ they  _ got you this  _ lost _ .  _

You begin to snicker to yourself as you truly realize how drunk and useless your friends really are, their bubbly and incoherent conversations rising high into the night. Inattentive to the ground in front of you, something trips you. Your absolute unit of a flashlight rolls off to the side a bit and you’re thankful for the bumpy terrain for keeping the thing from rolling too far away. You begin to regain your bearings, rubbing your now skinned elbows and knees, scrambling for your flashlight. After a moment between your friends’ laughter growing closer, and your silence, you notice the uncanny feeling of being watched. That, and the sound of heavy breathing behind you. Ever so slowly, you turn around, flashlight in hand and fearing the worst. Maybe a wolf or a bear.

Now facing the mysterious thing, your flashlight’s beam catches on the most terrifying of sights and the scream you let out can only be described as blood curdling. All of the decisions you made that night, your drunk friends, it all comes back to you in a cummulative wave that reads: “You are stupid. And you are going to die.” You can’t disagree, but in your state of abject terror, all you can do is scream at the hulking axe wielding figure before you. 

Before your friends can even appropriately react to your screams (you can hear a couple of them calling out your name in the distance), or reach you in time, two muscled arms (with a surprising lack of an axe in either of the large hands attached) grab you back into the darkness of the woods beyond the path you have made for yourself. What is one teenage girl to do when she is being carried through the woods by a previously axe-wielding stranger of simply  _ massive  _ proportions? Scream and kick! Unfortunately, the shock of such proportional events completely knock you out from the terror of it. This is something that your captor appreciates, yet is concerned about at the same time. The swift run back to a cabin in the middle of the woods is not peaceful, per se, but is particularly quiet without the placeholder of your terrorized screams. 

***

Upon your arrival to the cabin, your captor placed you on the worn couch in the center of the humble cabin living room, leaving you there to make you a cup of tea, should you wake up anytime soon. 

At around the fifteen minute mark, Urza starts to worry. Did you hit your head? She had only grabbed you out of panic when you started screaming. Urza understood why you freaked out -- an orc with an axe can be a bit of a nerve-wracking sight, especially that late at night. At least now that you were safe in her home, Urza could give you some proper directions to get home. It is not often a human wanders this far into the forest.

Just when Urza thinks she should wake you up, you do her job for her. Beginning to awake in a new, unfamiliar setting, you assess the things around you, the comfortable plaid couch you are laid out on, the rough fabric of the wool blanket covering you, the warm lighting of the cabin which woke you. Suddenly, the horror of what had just occurred (or at least, in your mind, had just occurred, a good amount of time had actually passed since then) came back to you full force. The decorative axes lining the walls didn’t help the situation either. But before you could scream, a large hand belonging to a figure you didn’t notice standing before you comes down on your opening mouth. Your eyes trail up the toned (green?) arm of your captor. 

_ Odd,  _ you think, the kind (if a little bit frightened) look in the eyes of said captor doesn’t seem like they are about to murder you. In fact, the kind face of the monster now sitting next to you on the couch makes you soften a little and breathe a bit more evenly. After a few moments of silenced anticipation, the large woman (or at least, you think a woman, you haven’t asked yet) removes her large hand from your mouth. Still keeping calm eye contact with you, she reaches over to hand you a giant mug you hadn’t noticed was sitting on the rugged coffee table. Tentatively, you take the piping hot ceramic from her, not daring to take your wide eyes off of her. There’s a prolonged moment of you keeping your fixed glare on Urza and Urza (in turn) keeping her eyes on you as well. When she notices you haven’t even tried to blow on the hot drink in your hands she leans back in a relaxed manner that surprises you.

“I didn’t drug it,” she laughs, slinging her muscled arm over the back of the couch, and she looks at you from her peripheral now, “If that’s what you’re worried about.” 

She laughs again at your deer-in-the-headlights stare and you jump, not missing a beat, and begin to interrogate her about when, why, how, and where you are. Urza struggles to deny how cute you are when you get so animated, especially after all of your stillness. After a moment, a deep breath, and urging her emerald blush to go away, Urza introduces herself properly. She also explains every detail of her whereabouts that night, how she just wanted to give you some directions, how she panicked and brought you back to her cabin -- the whole shebang. With your silent nod of understanding, Urza smiles warmly and hauls herself up from her place next you. Its then you realize how close to the orc you really were, and immediately blush at the recollection of proximity.

You had always seen orcs around town, made friends with many, dated a few. And seeing as Dorport is technically still run by the clan there, it never seemed strange to you, despite what your city-slicker friends might have to say about it. You think about apologizing to Urza for freaking out back there, as it isn’t great form to pass out at the sight of a (now, in the light of her cabin) beautiful orc woman. Even if she  _ could _ crush your head between her legs, if she so pleased. You take a moment to really take Urza in, how she rolls up the sleeves of her red flannel, the two thick braids her silky dark hair comes down in. Her dainty tusks and broad shoulders, the small scars that litter her hands. Before you can say anything substantial, the memory of your horribly drunk friends, still lost and cold in the woods, has you shooting up from the couch. Pulling on your sneakers and jacket in lightning speed, Urza looks up from the map she had managed to wrestle out of her bookshelf. Just as you were about to turn and thank Urza for her hospitality, you find your path to the doorway blocked by the woman herself. Predictably, you run into her head-on, and would have nearly fallen back into the coffee table if she had not caught you in time. 

Urza chuckles, peering down at you with an affectionate quirk of her lips, “You seem to be falling over a lot tonight.” With your arms and hands pressed against Urza’s chest in an effort to brace yourself, your face alights with the newly stoked fire of proximity. Noticing your flush, Urza just pulls you closer to her, simultaneously pulling out the trifold map from her back pocket. Leaning down ever so slightly, she taps the thing on the tip of your nose, whispering huskily, “You know how to read a map don’t you?” The gasp caught in your throat is audible, and the smirk in Urza’s voice is palpable. 

She tilts her head to the side in mock curiosity, uttering a low hum of question when you don’t answer her. It seems that all you can manage in response is a weak nod of your head. Urza looks satisfied, setting you firmly on your feet, sauntering over to the cabin door. The sight of her muscled form under her Levi’s make your knees go weak, and the look she gives you when she realizes that you haven’t made a move to follow her is absolutely devastating. 

“I’d really hate for you to get lost again, sweet. Even if you  _ can  _ read a map.” Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, that casual use of such a taunting nickname has you reeling all over again. You will your feet to move, managing a pouty look at her along the way. 

The crisp night air hits your flushed face as you step out of the cabin, Urza holding the door. You don’t miss the endeared look she gives you as you pull your jacket against the cold. In a moment, she’s locked up the cabin and turns to you enthusiastically, clasping her calloused hands together. The goofy expression painted across her stunning features makes you want to kiss it into oblivion. “Let’s go find your drunk friends!” She bellows out. Upon walking back to the path, Urza notices how you trip every now and then over the rough terrain. She wraps a toned arm around your waist to keep you steady, and in a daring move, leans down to place a chaste kiss on your cheek, uttering out, simply, that she’d hate for you to be on your knees if it weren’t for her. You silently thank god for the chill of the night, because, if it weren’t so present, you would have melted right then and there. 

**Author's Note:**

> If there’s any specific prompts you want me to do, I will hoard them because I love prompts, and I love hearing from you guys! Go ahead and comment below anything you want to see in a fic of mine. Don’t be shy about monster or scenario suggestions/requests in the comments!


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